Kate Bornstein

There are Buddhist prayers that say, “May I become a bodhisattva who is willing to stay in a hell realm for eons if it will help even one being.” Though Buddhism isn’t usually associated with the belief in hell, most Buddhist traditions in Asia speak of various heavenly and hellish realms of possible rebirth. An enlightened person who gave up the rewards of Nirvana to help people not just on earth but in hell would be an unselfish person of the highest order – a bodhisattva. Most of spiritual progressives, and a number of modern Buddhists, only ever use hell as a metaphor. This weekend at the third national Femme Conference in Oakland, a secular activist whom I greatly admire, Kate Bornstein, used the metaphor of hell in a way unexpectedly evoked for me the image of secular bodhisattva. In her keynote address she told us, “Do whatever you need to do to make life more worth living. The only rule is don’t be mean. And if you do this and get sent to hell for it, I will do your time for you.”

She paused and wondered out loud if this was a self-hating thing to wish. Was she really willing to burn in hell for everyone else? Wasn’t promising that devaluing herself? Then she said brightly, “Well, I’m a masochist. If I do go to hell, I’ll have a wonderful time.”

Though she didn’t use Buddhist language, I think Kate’s musings touch on some fundamental questions about bodhisattvas, those who work for the enlightenment of all instead of focusing on personal Nirvana. Does putting others first mean devaluing yourself? Is compassion being a doormat or a masochist? How does all this relate to patriarchal definitions of femininity that equate female with self-negating, always putting others ahead of self because she matters less?

But before developing those ideas I have to tell you about the context. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Femme Conference is made up of radical, queer, self-identified femmes. Put on every two years by the Femme Collective, it’s unlike anything I’d ever see before. Workshops on grassroots fund raising and on blogging took place next to workshops on gender identity and on sexual consent. Nighttime events were glittering, flirty performances and dance parties. There was free childcare and scent-free sections for folks for chemical sensitivities. In the closing plenary, one of the co-chairs of the conference, Christine De La Rosa, publicly stated, “Our committees are not as diverse as our communities. We need to do better. That’s our failing. Please help us do better next time. Please hold us accountable.”

In other words, it was my activist fantasy. Plus, the fashion was amazing.

Another amazing thing about Femme Conference was how much it complemented and connected with my spiritual life. Without much effort, I found four people from my sangha, the East Bay Meditation Center (EBMC), at the conference. The three-day conference included three separate overtly spiritual events: Friday night Shabbat services, a sacred drum and dance workshop, and a mindfulness meditation workshop. The FemCon meditation was led by EBMC community member Missy Fuego/Meliza Bañales. Missy is a student of Dharma Punx founder Noah Levine. Dharma Punx are a whole blog (or more) in themselves, as they embrace activism and service as Buddhist practice. Missy’s workshop was informed by this background and also directly addressed body issues while teaching meditation techniques.

More than just those events, though, I found the whole conference to be spiritual. In every event, our whole, complex selves were welcome. People spoke openly about activist experiences that had demanded that they abandon parts of themselves, whether it be shutting down emotionally to be “professional,” concealing aspects of their identity to stay “on message,” or just conforming to the unspoken activist dress code. (Check. Are you wearing dirty black pants?) Over and over again, we discussed the ways that femininity is devalued as frivolous, insignificant, or dangerous. We questioned why “real” activist issues are so often the ones that are associated with masculinity, while issues associated with femininity are marginalized. We examined the ways masculinity is privileged even in some high-profile queer communities, such as transmen’s inclusion in “women only” spaces while transwomen are excluded (with the argument that only those assigned “female” at birth are really women). At the conference, we tried to create something more holistic, authentic, genuinely feminist, and inclusive. Together we tried to be activists who are powerful, vulnerable, and honest, who embrace self-care along with care-taking.

To me this is spiritual work. It’s training to be bodhisattvas. Bodhisattvas are literally “awakened beings.” The simplest definition of a bodhisattva is a being whose first thought upon seeing any sentient being is, “May I benefit that being in the greatest possible way.” That wish to be of benefit in the truest way, to create the underlying causes of lasting happiness as well as providing immediate assistance, is called bodhicitta. “Bodhi” means “awakened” and “citta” means both mind and heart.

According to Buddhist teachings, the path to Nirvana is much faster than the bodhisattva path to full Buddhahood. While arhats who have reached Nirvana will never again be subject to the results of karma or unwanted rebirth, fledgling bodhisattvas may lose bodhicitta and fall back into samsara. Bodhisattvas are not magical beings who never suffer. They remain in the world, working for the well-being of all. They likely do this for a very long time before their minds are completely free of the kleshas, or afflictions like greed, hatred, and ignorance that lead to suffering. Bodhisattvas postpone their own bliss until others have freedom too. Their bodhicitta gives them the courage to go into hell, to go into danger and pain, if one can be of benefit there.

Clearly, this is vision of compassion is not weak or passive. It is brave, active, and paired with wisdom. Tibetan Buddhist teachers often speak of “wrathful compassion,” or compassion that is forceful and directly challenges wrongdoing, not out of anger, but from powerful love. Wrathful compassion, sometimes translated as “fierce compassion,” comes from love both for the victims of that oppression who we help and for the oppressor who we challenge. Bodhisattvas do not want beings to be harmed, and they do not want beings to cause harm either.

Bodhicitta comes from deep insight into interconnection. While putting off Nirvana and risking suffering may be foolish when viewed from a self-obsessed perspective, it is logical and necessary when understood through interconnection. If all beings are as important as I am, if all beings are connected and depend on each other, if I am not inherently separate from others, then how could I possibly be at peace when others are suffering? Their well-being is my well-being. Self-fixation is a primary obstacle to being a bodhisattva. Understanding interconnection is an antidote. When we see that we all are in it together, we will not longer view the path to enlightenment as “me first” or “others first,” but as all of us connected.

Western cultural generally associates caring for others with femininity. Interestingly, Buddhist tantra associates compassion with masculinity and wisdom with femininity, and always insists that Buddhas need to be fully awakened in both. Some bodhisattvas, notably Kuan Yin/Avalokiteshvara, are portrayed as male in some images and cultures and female in others. When one of my teachers was asked about an example of bodhisattva gender switching, he said, “They are showing they can be both. They aren’t stuck in male and female.” Bodhisattvas are able to access the full range of positive qualities, not to do away with gender, but to create diverse, complex genders not bound by stereotypes.

If anyone has embodied this approach to gender, it’s trans activist and author of Gender Outlaws Kate Bornstein. Though she claimed it was masochism that made her offer to go to hell for us, I see it as bodhisattva-like. Throughout her address, she told us that we were her angels, that our suffering and her own were interrelated, and that liberation must be for everyone.

At the end of Kate’s speech, a woman got up and said, “If you’re really going to take on all our sins, you know that makes you our savior.”

Kate jokingly spread her arms out a la the crucifixion. But in all seriousness she assured us, “You are the people I always wanted to be.”

Photo credit: Keshet: GLBT inclusion in the Jewish Community.